The rain fell upon the thick leaves of the forest, sounding like an ancient prayer—slow, heavy, and endless.
On the stone clearing atop the misty mountain, Phimrung, Noona, and Pantawan stood within the ancient circle engraved with the sacred symbols of the three races—Human, Divine, and Spirit.
Around them, people from every tribe formed a great ring, holding crimson torches whose flames defied the rain.
The chants echoed between them, weaving through the mist like a heartbeat shared by worlds long divided.
The elder of the Spirit clan raised her trembling hand.
> "Blood is the bond that forged the curse… and only blood can wash it away."
Phimrung bit her fingertip.
Noona followed.
Pantawan took a deep breath, then let her final drop of blood fall onto the stone at the circle's heart.
Three colors merged—
crimson red of humanity,
gold of divinity,
and violet-black of the spirits.
When they met, they turned into pure white light, expanding in a radiant wave.
A thunderclap split the sky.
The ground trembled, as though the long-buried sorrow of ages had begun to weep.
In that instant, visions appeared—
ancestors united, then torn apart by betrayal.
The curse was not born of evil,
but of fear—
the fear of loss,
and the inability to forgive.
> "We have all erred," Phimrung whispered, her voice shaking yet firm.
"But this blood shall no longer bind us in pain."
Pantawan bowed her head. "May all souls be free."
Noona lifted her hands. "May truth walk hand in hand with forgiveness."
The circle ignited in dazzling light.
Wind ceased. Rain fell silent.
Every sound in the world stilled.
Fragments of the curse lifted from the earth, dissolving into shimmering dust that drifted skyward.
Only the scent of rain-soaked soil remained—soft, alive, and new.
Dawn broke beyond the peaks,
and the mists parted to reveal a faint rainbow stretching across the horizon.
The three stood together, wordless yet united.
They knew—the curse had ended.
The blood of the three races had become one,
in the name of Truth and Forgiveness.
Then, from the clouds above the rainbow, a low rumble stirred the sky.
Wings—vast and glimmering like silver fire—emerged from the breaking mist.
A dragon, ancient and magnificent, descended slowly, eyes glowing with wisdom and warmth.
Phimrung's breath caught.
"It's him… the dragon who once saved us."
The creature bowed its great head before them.
> "You have freed the chains that bound the worlds," it spoke, its voice deep as thunder yet gentle as rain.
"Now, life may begin anew."
The dragon's breath released a gentle wind that swept through the valley, awakening seeds, rivers, and hearts.
It coiled once around the mountain peak before vanishing into the light of dawn—leaving behind a sky washed clean and bright.
The three girls gazed upward, tears glistening in their eyes.
For the first time in centuries, the world felt whole again.